The Night Wagner Got Stoned
by Tumble Down
Summary: There’s something about Darien’s relaxed posture, though, like he’s completely comfortable with everything around him, even Rodney, that makes Rodney not immediately order him out of the room.


**A/N**: Writtern for _krysalys_ at LJ. Title is crap, I know. I've been told Darien's a little OOC in this, so I apologize. Further notes are at the end. Unbeta'd, so let me know of any mistakes.

* * *

Rodney McKay meets Darien Fawkes when Darien comes to visit his brother, Rodney's unfortunate roommate. The knock had come at the door while Kevin had been running around, trying to find everything for his lab final that evening. He had yanked the door open, blinked at who it was, and said that he didn't have any money. He then had run out the door without bothering to close it.

Rodney knows it has to be Darien, as Kevin had frequently complained about his younger brother coming around looking for money or a place to crash for the night, or how he had gotten a GED instead of a diploma, or how he apparently had as much luck holding down a job as Rodney did hiding his annoyance. By this point, Rodney figures, he pretty much knows Darien without actually knowing him, and now that he's standing in his dorm room, he's not entirely surprised at what he sees.

Darien's lanky and certainly has that slacker look about him, his Frankie Goes To Hollywood shirt adding its own flair to it. His hair is long, not metal head long, but enough that it falls around his face in a shaggy, unkempt way that nearly makes Rodney twitch enough to dig out a comb and fix it.

There's something about Darien's relaxed posture, though, like he's completely comfortable with everything around him, even Rodney, that makes Rodney not immediately order him out of the room.

Darien shrugs a bit suddenly, looks at Rodney, and asks, "Wanna get high?"

Rodney doesn't think the boy could get any higher, already taller than him at seventeen-- younger and taller and only further proving to Rodney that there really was an obvious natural law of _not fair_ out there. His professors were idiots to miss it.

But Darien doesn't seem to care that Rodney doesn't have one iota of social grace, that he probably was pretty obvious with his study of him, and that Rodney probably has three times his IQ and still can't say the word sex without blushing. Darien's face is open, waiting, with brown eyes that seem amused at the hesitation.

"If it's not your thing, that's okay," Darien finally says, "but do you mind if I do?"

"Okay," Rodney says, and he doesn't know why in the hell he's agreeing, but it's been long, irritating week with cretins for peers and morons for professors, and he's sick and tired of hearing all the giggling over this supposed feel good wonder drug. He's out for knowledge and nothing else, he tells himself. "Okay, I-- I will."

"Cool," Darien says, then heads for the door.

"Where are you going?" stutters Rodney, surprised. Darien smiles.

"Gotta go get it."

"It's in your car?"

"Nah, I checked it when I wired it, but there wasn't nothin' in there, so I gotta go get some."

"A dealer?" Rodney nearly squeaks out, not sure if he really wants to risk his fourth master's degree over a drug deal, collegiate knowledge be damned.

"Don't have any money," Darien tells him, then jerks his thumb in the direction Kevin had disappeared in, "and he can't lie worth shit, so I know he doesn't have any."

"How are you going to get it, then?" Rodney's really curious now, his interest piqued by this new information. He knows that some students on campus make their own drugs, has heard the whispered stories, but how does Darien know them?

"This campus has a medical research facility, right?"

"Witch doctors," he grumbles in response. Darien nods, whether in agreement or not he's not really sure. "So?"

"So, they got to have all that high grade medical marijuana."

"And just _how _do you plan to get it? I mean, what are you going to do, waltz in there and steal it? Please-- oh, my God, you are, aren't you? You're going to break in to get pot and I'm going to lose my scholarship and all that grant money for my research--"

"Rodney?" Darien says, then holds out his hand and Rodney takes it without thinking. He's hauled up from his chair, and then has an arm wrapped around his shoulders that steers him towards the door. "You're a genius. Relax, you'll get this just fine."

---

Turns out Rodney can now add how to pick locks and dodge cameras to his repertoire now, a skill he has no idea will aid him greatly later in life. He doesn't have much in any ideas right now, sprawled safely in Darien's stolen car that's parked down a residential alley near the campus. It's mostly student housing here, students that have spent entire semesters drowning in beers that Rodney can't even pronounce, and no one cares about the fact that Rodney's got his legs over the steering wheel and resting on the dash, his door hanging partly open. The inside light is shot or shot out, he can't remember what Darien explained now, but there's a street light just close enough that he can make out Darien beside him, his own door wide open, legs far too long sticking out and resting on the sidewalk with his body twisted so he's half under the dash digging around.

Rodney's not stoned, not even great marijuana can apparently affect his magnum brain, but he's high in own way, giddily flying over everything else and not giving one damn whether he'll be caught or arrested or fucked up in an entirely different way. Darien's chattering on, mentioning things that Rodney thinks a seventeen-year-old dropout of a thief doesn't have any business knowing, let alone understanding on a level that Rodney didn't think actually existed for people that weren't geniuses. He tunes it out mostly, letting someone else's babbling wash over him for once. Darien doesn't seem to care if he answers or has the answers and Rodney thinks he might just love him for that.

He catches the phrase _occam's razor_ and starts laughing. Why, he doesn't know, but it catches Darien's attention, who tilts his head back enough to look at Rodney upside down.

"Lex parsimoniae," he says, then giggles again. Darien glows like Chernobyl, his grin lopsided and indulgent. He wriggles out from underneath the dash and uses one long arm to reach up and grab the seat to haul himself up. He brings his legs in and props his knees against the dashboard and turns to face Rodney.

"All things being equal--" Rodney starts. He's cut off by Darien, who stares at him with those amused dark eyes.

"KISS," he says.

"Okay," Rodney says, and leans over awkwardly to do just that.

He's never kissed a guy before, never really considered it, but he thinks he likes it. Darien doesn't seem to hate it, either, as he leans into it, furthering the awkward angle and making it uncomfortable, not that either of them are aware of that fact. And if they do, they're ignoring it, too distracted to care, and Rodney's even further distracted when Darien flicks his tongue out. Rodney opens his mouth, letting him in, letting the night sink further into him and letting everything else disappear down a mental path labeled ecstasy.

Darien stops first, leaning back a fraction. "Backseat?" he says, and Rodney can't help the whimpering keen in his throat. He whips around and falls out the door and face first on the pavement. He tugs his legs forward to stand up, except one's caught on the steering wheel and he tugs it again, impatient. He twists to glare at it and tugs a third time, and apparently another obvious law is that third time _is_ the charm since he pulls free and he thuds fully on the ground. He rolls and reaches up to open the back door, and he never really does make it to his feet since as soon as it's open he half-dives, half-crawls inside.

Darien's already back there, and Rodney grumbles that no one should be so coordinated when they're high. Darien shrugs-- he must've said that aloud-- and pulls Rodney towards him until Rodney's laying on top of him. His startled complaint is hushed by another long, languid kiss, and he lets himself fall into it. The kisses stay deep, but soon become a bit more frantic. Rodney keens again and Darien shushes and nuzzles him, his previously unnoticed hands sliding between them. He brushes his hands across Rodney's belly, their touch so gentle that Rodney doesn't know whether to be utterly grateful or completely annoyed. He kisses Darien again, letting them trail down from his mouth to his neck.

"Do it," he growls out, impatient and desperate. He's not skittish, damn it, not yet, and if Darien doesn't get a move on now he's going to start thinking and for the first time in his life it's exactly what he _doesn't_ want to do.

The hands comply, fumbling with his jeans, and Rodney almost laughs when he realizes that maybe Darien's not as coordinated as he thought, but doesn't because before he can process it the hands are _there_, cold and electrifying, and making him gasp out. He thrusts into them instinctively, too far gone to hold back now.

"Yeah," Darien whispers, "like that, just like that..." He continues on, murmuring things Rodney doesn't even bother to try and focus on, instead he kisses and nips the neck before him, worrying the skin that he can feel trembling as much as he is. He's so damn close, doesn't even know how he's lasted this long, and lets his rhythm go erratic, thrusting harder as those chilling hands squeeze tight and tug, trying to match him.

It hits him just as he bites down, and his jaw tightens. Darien cries out, fast and sharp, but then he's silent and still, his chest rising and falling the only movement between them. Rodney knows that he's got to be heavy, but he can't move and he's pretty sure his heart is beating out the "Ride of the Valkyries" in his chest, and all he can really think is how much he hates finals week.

"You bit me," Darien finally says, and he's not pissed, his voice almost sounds awed. Rodney forces himself to look at Darien's face, barely seen in the dark.

"Erm, sorry?" Rodney offers, feeling like his IQ has bottomed out from underneath him.

There's a pause, and Rodney swallows hard, and then Darien's laughing insanely and Rodney idly wonders when the hell he entered Wonderland.

"Fuck, that hurt, y'know? I'm going to have a scar. A sex scar. I'll have a goddamn sex scar." He laughs again and carefully slides his hands out of Rodney's pants. He brings the sticky fingers up and cups Rodney's face and kisses him. "You know how fucking hot that is?"

"Yeah, well, I just came in my pants, and let me tell you, that's _not _hot, it's sticky and disgusting and my _God_, I'm going to have stain treat these and do you know how hard it is to do that when the laundry room's _never _empty? You'd think that it would be at, say, three in the morning, but _no_, there's _always _someone down there wanting the whole place to themselves and that is one embarrassment I'm not going to suffer through in this life if there's any luck in the universe, not that I believe in luck, but I didn't believe in unfairness and third time, either, and _they're_ real--"

"Why can't you do it your room?"

"What?"

"Stain treating. Can't you do it in your room? Kev's not there all the time."

Yeah, his IQ took a detour, following his blood south and dribbling entirely out of him. He really can't see it, but can certainly feel Darien smirk at him, and he glares back, hoping that Darien feels that in return.

"You geniuses... You just need to remember-- KISS!"

"Not while I'm mad at you," Rodney grumbles.

"No, no, not-- not _kiss_, like making out, KISS like the acronym. Y'know, _Keep It Simple, Stupid_?"

Rodney stares at him in the dark, fully aware that his rapidly cooling boxers are sticking to him in ways he thought only happened after a certain kind of dreams, and can't figure out which to be offended by-- the fact that Darien has called him stupid or the fact that he didn't recognize the acronym that he had heard at least once or twice a week.

"Rodney?" Darien prompts.

"I'm a _genius_," he declares, although it sounds more like a mortified slap to the forehead than the death glare scolding he wants it to be.

"You're human," is the response. Rodney huffs and buries his face into Darien's neck, but jerks back when he notices something.

"You're bleeding!"

"And you're sticky. What say you and me go see how big those showers really are, huh?"

Rodney wants to sputter and protest, but what brain cells that haven't turned into a puddle of useless goo begin thinking of all that implies. He swallows hard and nods in the dark. "Okay," he says, since it's gotten him this far.

"See?" Darien says amusedly as he pushes Rodney up and off of him. "That's why you're a genius."

- _FINIS_ -

**NOTES**:

1. Rodney makes references to CalTech's tradition of playing _Ride of the Valkyries_ every morning at seven during finals week over every speaker available. I figured that _The Inivisible Man_ takes place in California and that Kevin would have to be close enough for Darien to visit, even in a stolen vehicle, and I already knew of the CalTech tradition, so I more or less placed that as the scene. Rodney being there isn't too crazy an idea, either, as I can see him choosing it over MIT because I get the feeling that Rodney and snow don't really mix, Canadian or not.

2. I don't honestly know if CalTech has any medical research facility, or if they store marijuana there for study. I don't even know if they _did _study it like that back then. If I'm wrong, sorry. Let's just pretend that this is a different universe where they did.

3. Even though in real life Vincent Ventresca is actually older than David Hewlett, I've switched it around to suit the story better. I mention Darien is about seventeen, so I'm more or less thinking that Rodney is around twenty-two. In my mind that puts Darien at about twenty-seven during the events of I-Man in 2000, which would put Rodney currently on SGA at about forty years old. Does that sound good? I about half-assed the timeline as it doesn't really matter in this story, but I kind of like a resemblance of a time frame to keep in case I write any more.

4. Oh, nearly forgot this. Occam's razor, lex parsimoniae, and KISS all pretty much refer to the same thing-- the simplest solution is the best, and that's actually the rest of Rodney's phrase, "All things being equal..." I've come to associate the idea with both characters, because yes, while Rodney goes on about the complicated natures of things and tends to overexplain, he also has a great ability to cut through the bullshit and come up with a brilliantly simple plan to things, even if the individual acts of the plan maybe not as simple. Darien seems to think the same way-- why overcomplicate things?

5. Have to say this. Methinks Rodney's attraction to Darien later equals his attraction to John. (Hee.) C'mon, tall California boys (Vincent and Joe are the same height, 6'2") with fluffy hair and slinky/lanky bodies and a borderline slacker attitude that belies great ability? It's enough to think Rodney's got a preference. ;D


End file.
